


Burying a Nail and a Needle

by hydrangeamaiden



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Spoilers, Trauma, Void!Hornet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrangeamaiden/pseuds/hydrangeamaiden
Summary: Little Ghost has trouble adjusting to a domestic lifestyle. Living with Hornet, who has tried to kill them multiple times in the past, is only adding to their stress.
Relationships: Hornet & The Knight (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 123





	Burying a Nail and a Needle

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Among Ghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265295) by [AlbiNora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlbiNora/pseuds/AlbiNora). 



> I wrote this because I liked 'Among Ghosts' by AlbiNora but I'm weak and need everything to be soft and fluffy. Also, Hornet gave me a really hard time in Kingdom's Edge and I think she should apologize (I swear she was easier my first playthrough sob sob I don't know what happened)
> 
> Also, please no comments saying 'Hornet isn't Void' and such. I don't care whether it's canon or not, I just like writing it. PLEASE just let me enjoy myself in peace.

Ghost’s life was not much of a life, with no memories nor a place to belong. Not until Hallownest, where they learned that the world did indeed hold a place for them. From a long time ago, they always had a feeling that they were supposed to die early. They journeyed to Hallownest expecting it to become their grave. Recovering their memories validated these suspicions: they were meant to either usurp the Hollow Knight or stop the heart of the Infection, and they would die in the attempt. The Temple of the Black Egg, specifically, would be their final resting place. Hornet had named them well.

Yet a week later, they comfortable in their bed in Dirtmouth, with the Grimmchild curled up at their feet and their siblings talking in the other room. Hornet’s voice is unusually light as she speaks to the Hollow Knight, now just ‘Hollow’. She never speaks to Ghost like that.

Ghost rolls onto their side and stares at their nail, propped up against the wall. They haven’t had any use for it in weeks now. The remnants of the Infection are weak and cannot harm them. In the Abyss, their siblings welcome them like an old friend, which they suppose they are, but it’s hard to shake off the memories of those cold, stinging tendrils, lashing across their skin like whips.

They trace a finger down the fading scar on their shell. That’s no one’s fault. The fresh, bumpy scars on their limbs—could be anyone’s fault. So many bugs have attacked them. They feel around on their shoulder for the dent in their chitin. It wasn’t like that before, but they picked and picked at it for weeks and left an ugly mark in their body. They have no right to complain, really, since it’s their own fault and Hollow has had to deal with worse.

“Little Ghost?”

Hornet’s voice comes closer to their door. Ghost sits up, careful not to disturb the slumbering Grimmchild, and goes to the door. Hornet is standing just outside with her hands tucked behind her back, and no weapon in sight.

“I’m making breakfast. Are you hungry?” she asks, and Ghost feels like they’ve walked into an alternate dimension. The Hornet they know wouldn’t so much as offer them the time of day, let alone a meal. They look past her and into the kitchen, where Hollow is hunched at the table with a blanket around their shoulders, picking at a single pancake.

For some reason, this makes Ghost lose their appetite. They shake their head, and retreat back into their room.

“Are you sure?” Hornet’s voice takes on the slightly accusatory tone that they are more familiar with. “You haven’t eaten since we moved in. I don’t know if...”

Ghost closes the door and flips the lock. They grab their nail and wait, but all Hornet does is sigh and walk away.

They don’t realize their hands are shaking until their nail clatters to the floor. Behind them, the Grimmchild lifts her head and mewls at them, but they only hear a loud ringing. Dizzy and disoriented, they totter back to bed and burrow under the covers.

They don’t need their nail. There’s no one to fight anymore. Least of all Hornet. She was the one who dragged them and Hollow into this house and set up rooms for them all. She was the one who gave them a name, and, and…and the wound on their shoulder. It was at Kingdom’s Edge, and she wouldn’t let them near their shared father’s grave. She had torn them asunder dozens of times, and every single time they came back, ready to prove their resolve despite their sanity slipping away from them. When they finally bested her and she let them through, they couldn’t even feel relief, or a sense of accomplishment. They saw the look of worry in her eyes. No, it was pity. It _had_ to be.

They didn’t have the resolve, in the end. She just went easy on them.

With so much to worry them, their sleep is fitful. They have nightmares of needle and thread cutting into their soft body, of vines and leaves that obscure their vision, of ash clouds that choke them. They dream of a girl in red who they desperately chase, but she is always too far ahead of them. They dream of her voice and a flash of bright, golden light.

Ghost wakes up shrieking and flailing. Light floods into their room from the open door, sending them into a panic; they don’t remember that the Grimmchild can sense nightmares, and that she recently learned how to open doors by herself. Hornet comes thundering into the room, speaking too fast and too loud, while Hollow looms in the doorway.

It is all too much: the light, the sound, the way the entire household has crowded around them. The shrill, tinny ringing in their hearing organs has come back. Ghost dives back under the covers, squeezes their eyes shut, and starts counting. Without thinking, they clutch the scar on their shoulder.

Five, six, seven. Hornet’s voice lowers to a soothing murmur, her hand grazing their back. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen. Hollow’s knees hitting the floor as they kneel by the bed.

When they’ve reached thirty, Hornet peels the comforter away and reaches for Ghost. All they see in that moment are her claws, dulled down but still sharp enough to hurt, and they slap her hand away. Ghost is still holding their shoulder, and for a wild moment wonders if Hornet is going to hit them back. But all she does is draw her hand away, looking as startled as the others, and the guilt crashes down on them.

Ghost leaps out of bed, hands pressed to the side of their head, and races out of the room before anyone can catch them. They hear their siblings calling after them, and the plaintive cries of the Grimmchild, but the only thing they want right now is to _get away_. Heart racing, they leap down the old well and blunder their way through the Crossroads, afraid that someone will be in pursuit if they look back. Every stumble and fall frightens them into thinking that they’ll be slowed down, that someone is going to come and catch them and _then_ they’ll be sorry.

Their adrenaline runs out when they reach the Howling Cliffs. Trembling and exhausted, they hide themselves away in a nook. This they are familiar with: they spent many days in their past hiding from predators, bad weather, and even other sapient bugs. That cowardice never really left them. The moment the fighting stopped, they went right back to hiding again.

Some small bug scuttles on the platform above them, and their stomach lurches: they left their nail at home. Ghost forgets that they can cast spells, or that they are the strongest of their siblings. In their mind, they’ve traveled back to when they were weak and helpless, not even knowing how to swing their old nail. With a slight sob, they put their face into their knees. All of the amazing feats during the time of the Infection feel like they were performed by someone else. Ghost can’t believe that they’re capable of any of that now, especially when they can’t even adjust to domestic life.

In their current state, the last thing they want is to face their family. They struck Hornet, and startled Hollow and the Grimmchild. No doubt they will all be furious when Ghost goes home—if they go home at all. They stare out into the wastelands beyond, and wonder if it would be better to just leave.

Before they can contemplate it any further, or wonder why they even considered it, they hear familiar breathing and footsteps against the rock. There’s a flash of red in their periphery, but unlike in their nightmares, it is coming closer. The voice that follows is soft. Warm, even.

“There you are,” says Hornet, dropping to a crouch in front of their hiding space. “I had a feeling you’d be out here.”

Ghost sniffles and drags their fist across their eyes. Hornet crawls into their hiding space and sits next to them, effectively blocking any means of escape.

“Have you been having nightmares for a while?”

Ghost nods.

Hornet drapes her arms around her knees and sighs. “Shall I find Grimm?”

They shake their head, and Hornet blinks in surprise. “No?...Would you be willing to tell me what they’re about, then?”

Ghost holds their hand out to Hornet. It is not easy to project their thoughts to her, because they are so damning, and she has changed so much in the short time they’ve known each other. Her fingers twitch against them, expression growing more and more dismayed as she experiences their memories. It lasts for ten long seconds, before Ghost pulls back and turns away from her. Melding their Void like that is a deeply intimate experience that they have yet to get used to. After seeing the look on Hornet’s face, they’re not sure they ever want to do it again.

Just as their shame is reaching a boiling point, Hornet turns them back around. She holds them still with a hand on their arm, and moves their cloak away from their shoulder. It’s not just the scar on their shoulder that she’s looking at, but the dozens of other ones on the rest of their body.

“This is where the King’s Brand went in,” she says, grazing her fingertips against the subtle burn marks on their chest. Ghost flinches, but she holds them firm. “These ones are from the fog canyon. These used to be puncture wounds. This...”

She touches their shoulder and frowns, but it is more sad than angry. “I made this one, didn’t I?”

Ghost nods. Yes, that was her.

“And here’s one from where my silk constricted you. And over here...” She moves her hand down their arm, stopping to cradle their hand. Slowly she leans in, and kisses the mark on their palm. Next she kisses the wound she inflicted on her shoulder, then their forehead. Feeling her warm breath against their cold shell makes their stomach flutter. Unlike Hornet and Hollow, Ghost had no one to cuddle and kiss them when they were young. The slightest physical contact feels like fireworks going off against their skin—though sometimes they wonder if it’d feel like that no matter their upbringing.

“I’m sorry.” Hornet gathers them onto her lap, holding them like a cherished stuffed toy. Instinctively, they hold her back. She’s surprisingly soft, though considering she has Void in her blood, they should have expected it. Ghost practically melts into her arms, simultaneously comforted by her touch and embarrassed that they would come to rely on the comfort of another. They’ve always taken care of themselves, and they turned out…

It dawns on them that they have not turned out as well as they thought they did.

“I won’t try to make excuses for how I’ve hurt or frightened you,” Hornet says, bringing them back to reality. “Nor do I expect forgiveness. However, I shall ask for a second chance, to do things differently.”

Ghost nods into her chest. They’d like that a lot, actually. That is something they’ve wanted ever since they first saw her, before they knew she was family.

“Thank you, little Ghost.” Hornet stands, keeping them cradled in her arms. “I think it is time we went home. The others are worried.”

And Ghost puts their arms around her neck, hiding their face against her, though they have no more tears to shed. They will not have to chase after her anymore.


End file.
